


A Long Oblivion

by flawedamythyst



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angel Clint Barton, Angel/Demon AU, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christian Mythology, Demon Bucky Barnes, Descriptions of Hell, Happy Ending, M/M, Torture, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: All myths have some basis in reality. The river wasn’t called Lethe, but if you wanted to lose some memories, it was the best place to go. Bucky visited it on a regular basis, trailing his fingers through the waters and burning off some of the more painful moments he’d gathered.Bucky didn't remember the Fall from Heaven, or why he'd chosen to side with Lucifer, and until the angel started showing up he'd never thought to question that.





	A Long Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kangofucb for betaing. Written for the Wingfic square of my Winterhawk Bingo card.

All myths have some basis in reality. The river wasn’t called Lethe, but if you wanted to lose some memories, it was the best place to go. Bucky visited it on a regular basis, trailing his fingers through the waters and burning off some of the more painful moments he’d gathered.

His first memories were of this river bank. He’d come to, soaking wet and choking up water with Rumlow crouched over him, one hand on his shoulder and grinning with satisfaction as Bucky stared up at him with nothing but a blank slate where his past had been.

By all accounts, he hadn’t lost anything important, though. Just like none of the memories he came here to wash away were worth keeping. He didn’t need to remember the exact note of pain in that woman’s scream as he’d sliced her ribs out of her chest, or the fierce gleam in Rumlow’s eye as his forked tongue had flicked out to lick the splatter of blood off his skin. Right before he’d directed Bucky to flay the skin from that man.

Bucky crouched closer to the water, holding one dark wing above the water and gently touching a feather to the surface, feeling his shoulders relax as memories of torture and pain faded away.

There was a rustle and a thump behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder, then sprang to his feet, wings coming up threateningly as he braced himself for attack.

The angel was blond and blue-eyed, and Bucky could feel his grace from a couple of metres away, strong enough that he must be at least a Principality. 

“Hey, chill,” said the angel, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m not about to start a fight. Feels like we’ve all seen enough fighting,” he added, with a rueful look.

The War was one of the things that Bucky had lost his memories of, but he’d heard enough from the other demons to not trust the word of an angel.

“They hate us,” Pierce had told him. “They were as cruel as we can be, and found joy in hurting us. I heard them laughing as we all Fell. Angels I had counted as my brothers, before the Rift, laughing to see us in torment.”

“Plus they’re all so fucking patronising,” Rumlow had muttered, then slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go remind some of the oath-breakers what it means to truly burn.”

Bucky eyed the angel with suspicion. “Why would you be here, if not to fight?”

The angel rocked back on his heels, shrugging. Bucky noticed that his white robe was stained with grass in a couple of places and the knot of his belt was coming undone. If Bucky hadn’t been able to feel the strength of his grace, he wouldn’t have seemed much of a threat at all.

“I don’t know, I just thought it might be nice to talk,” he said, then ran a hand back through his hair. “I always enjoyed talking to you the most.”

Bucky felt his whole body tense up and if it hadn’t been for the river at his back, he’d have stepped away. “You knew me before,” he said, flatly.

“Yeah,” agreed the angel. “Of course I did. Don’t-?” He frowned, giving Bucky a careful look. “How much time do you spend at this river?”

Bucky should have told the angel to fuck off and leave him alone, or even just flown away, but instead he found himself answering. “I was submerged,” he said, and the angel looked as if he’d been struck. The pain in his eyes made something unpleasant strum in Bucky’s chest, so he redoubled his glare, straightened his spine, and repeated what Pierce had so often told him. “A baptism to wash away my past as God’s lapdog, so that I could serve Hell with my whole heart. I chose it.”

The angel stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No, you didn’t,” he said, and he sounded as if he were going to cry. “James, you didn’t choose any of this.”

James. Bucky hadn’t even known what his name had been before, but as soon as the angel said it, it rang through him like a bell, as if his soul recognised it and wanted to welcome it back.

But he wasn’t meant to have a soul any more. God had burned that away when he’d tossed them all aside. “It’s Bucky now,” snapped Bucky, flapping his wings in preparation to leave. “And I don’t know you.”

“Okay,” said the angel. “Bucky. My name’s Clint, and we were close before.”

“And yet you stayed on the other side,” said Bucky. “We can’t have been that close.”

Clint’s smile was tinged with sorrow. “I made a horrible mistake. I should have been there for you.”

Bucky shook his head. “Leave me be,” he spat, and took off, soaring up into the sky.

Clint stayed where he was, but when Bucky glanced down at him, he could see his head was tipped back to watch Bucky go.

****

Bucky tried to stay away from the river after that, but the burden of the memories of how he spent every day, of the pain he inflicted, weighed him down bit by bit, drop by drop like the blood falling from his knife.

“I don’t know why you don’t embrace it,” Rumlow said, as they watched a heretic scrambling in the dirt for his intestines. “This is what God made of us. This is what we’re meant to be.” A fierce grin spread across his face, thick with sharp teeth, and he stretched out a foot to grind his heel down on the man’s hand. “Besides, it’s fun,” he added as bones cracked and the man yowled.

Bucky didn’t find it fun, though. He sliced and he branded and he bled because it was his job, but he took no joy in it. He watched the sinners they had been set to torment and he felt a tinge of pity for them that he knew he could never tell anyone about. And then, when it all became too much and he felt weighed down by all he’d done, he took off and soared through the realms to the river, kneeling beside it and burying his hand in cold water and wishing he could be washed truly clean.

The memories flaked away like dried blood and he watched them go, growing the tiniest bit lighter.

“I hoped you’d come back.”

It wasn’t until Bucky heard the voice that he realised he’d been waiting for it. He looked over his shoulder to see the angel sitting on the branch of a tree, legs swinging, and the lightness spread further down into his chest.

_He’s the enemy,_ he reminded himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it when Clint just sat there, watching him.

“Do you remember our last meeting, or have you let that go as well?” asked Clint.

Bucky had kept it, although he had no idea why. He took his hand from the water and turned to face him. “I’m not who you used to know,” he said. “I’m a demon.”

Clint nodded. “I know,” he said, sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” snapped Bucky, and then added, hearing Rumlow’s words in his voice, “And I’m not sorry. Being a demon is better than being an angel ever was.”

“How would you know?” asked Clint.

Bucky didn’t have an answer to that.

“Not the point, anyway,” said Clint. “I mostly just wanted to see how you are. Are you-” He paused, and then grimaced. “I don’t know if happy is the right word, but are you content?”

“I’ve got my place,” said Bucky, because he couldn’t answer that question properly. What did being content even mean? “I’ve got a job and I do it.”

“Right,” said Clint, sadly. “Sounds great.” He looked at the river, and then at where water was still dripping off Bucky’s fingers, then sighed and tipped his head back to look at the sky. “You and me, we used to be watchers,” he said. “We were the best, no one saw as much as us, or as far. We watched stars collide and planets be born.”

The stars weren’t visible from Hell. Bucky scowled at Clint. “Sounds dull,” he lied. “Just watching? I like getting to actually do stuff.”

That wasn’t true, not when the stuff he was doing was torturing people, but lies came easily to a demon’s tongue.

Clint shrugged. “You liked it at the time.” A mischievous grin took over his face, “Besides, sometimes we’d, you know, _nudge_ things a little. There’s a nebula that looks just like Steve’s shield from the right angle, and at least three in the shape of arrows.”

The idea of it, of sitting and watching the universe create itself, and getting to quietly take a hand in that, made something in Bucky’s chest that should have been burnt away when he Fell thump painfully. “Who the fuck is Steve?” he asked, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go.”

“Got to go do more things that you’ll need to come back here to forget?” asked Clint, and Bucky scowled at him. Clint spread his hands, his wings fluttering to keep his balance in the tree. “Hey, just saying it like I see it.” 

“I’ve got shit to do,” spat out Bucky. “Better shit than talking to some angel who can’t seem to remember that we’re enemies.”

“I’ll never be your enemy, James,” Clint said, then corrected himself. “Bucky. Doesn’t matter what you do.”

There was too much churning inside Bucky, too many emotions he couldn’t name. He snarled at Clint, flapping his wings so that he was hovering above the ground. “All we did was try to claim some dignity for ourselves,” he snapped, and those were Pierce’s words this time.

He flew away before Clint could say anything else, and he couldn’t help wishing that he did remember exactly why he’d chosen this. 

He soared back down into Hell, landing with bare feet on the dusty, gritty ground, watching the eternal fire cast red shadows across the landscape, and thought that there wasn’t a lot of dignity in anything they did here. He felt a surge of loss for the idea of just getting to sit and watch the universe exist with someone who he actually liked, a true friend, and then forced himself to go back to where Rumlow was whipping a murderer with a spiked chain. This was his place now, and he must have chosen this side for a good reason, even if he couldn’t remember it now.

Even if no one here came close to being a friend, he thought as Rumlow grinned at him and held the chain out for him to take a turn.

****

He didn’t wait nearly as long as he usually did before going to the river again, although he carefully didn’t think about why. He dipped his toes into the water, watching the dust and blood that caked them wash away as easily as the memories did, and then glanced around, trying to tell himself that he didn’t want to see Clint.

He liked being alone; he didn’t need a friend. Especially not an angel friend.

He spotted him as soon as he came in view, soaring down on his wide, white wings, twirling in a spiral as he descended, graceful in ways no demon could ever manage.

“You’re back!” he said happily, landing far enough from Bucky that he didn’t feel threatened. 

“This was my place long before you were coming here,” said Bucky. “I’m not about to let some angel chase me away.”

“I don’t want to chase you away,” said Clint. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Don’t know exactly what you think an angel and a demon have to talk about,” said Bucky, and he’d meant it to be a sneer, but it came out sounding much sadder than that.

“Anything. Everything,” said Clint, and he sounded a little desperate, taking a step closer. Bucky felt the force of his grace and flinched back, and Clint stopped moving, taking a deep breath. “Just don’t rush off again. I miss you.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know you,” he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Clint.

Clint shrugged. “I know you,” he said, as if it were that simple.

“Not any more,” said Bucky, firmly, because whoever he had been before the Fall, he was someone else now. Someone who spent his time hurting people. “And I’ve got a job to do,” he added. “I can’t just skip out on it to chat to an angel, even if your lot are happy with you coming down here to bother a demon all the time.”

“A job, right,” agreed Clint. “A job that leaves blood on your hands that you come here to wash away. You’ve got to be wanting to get right back to that.”

Bucky felt his wings hunch over and tried to relax them so his emotions weren’t as obvious. “It’s what needs to be done,” he snapped. “We can’t all just sit around watching shit and calling it a job.”

“Can’t we?” asked Clint, and shrugged. “Seems to me your lot are meant to be all about choosing what makes you happy, regardless of consequences. If you don’t like what they’re making you do, why not ask if there’s another job for you? Hell must have Watchers as well, right? Watching for different things, maybe, but. You’d still get to see it all.” He looked at Bucky with a desperate, longing look. “Some of it is so beautiful, Bucky. Whenever I see something like that, I always want so badly to share that with you, like we always used to.”

“You wouldn’t be able to, even if I did change jobs Below,” Bucky pointed out, and shook his head. “Besides, I don’t think you get Hell at all. It’s a punishment, not a free for all on whatever you want to do.”

“Yeah?” asked Clint, tipping his head to one side and giving Bucky a sharp look. “Do the other demons seem like they’re being punished?”

Bucky thought to their fierce grins and harsh laughter, to the glee with which they pulled souls apart, and reluctantly shook his head. “Doesn’t mean we get a choice, though,” he said, then added, bitterly. “Humans are the only ones who get a choice, didn’t you hear?”

Clint shrugged. “I never really needed a choice,” he said. “If I had one, I’d still be doing what I’m doing. I was made for it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Rumlow’s right, you’re all fucking indoctrinated,” he muttered.

“Rumlow,” said Clint slowly, and let out a sigh. “Yeah, figures that he’d be keeping close to you. He’s the one that did this to you, you know. You shouldn’t have fallen, you weren’t one of them. You’re still not. You don’t even look much like them.”

Bucky laughed, and it came out harsh and cracked. “You’re saying God made a mistake?” he sneered. “Aren’t you worried that if you go about doubting Him like that you’ll end up getting cast out as well?”

“God didn’t make the mistake,” said Clint, sadly. “I did.”

Something about the tone of his voice sent a spike of sadness through Bucky’s chest, and suddenly this whole thing was too much. “Look, just fuck off and leave me alone,” he said. “I’m not the angel you used to know, I don’t even remember being him. He’s just about as dead as any of us can get.” He stretched out his wings. “Do me a favour, and leave me alone,” he said, then took off, heading back to Hell with a haste he couldn’t usually summon.

****

He couldn’t help thinking about Clint’s words though, and eyeing the other demons, spotting all the ways he didn’t quite fit with them. Everything about them was twisted into ugliness, skin cracked and broken, pitted with the marks of their sins. Their wings were the same black as Bucky’s, but while his still spread wide, they were hunched and tattered, as if they’d shrivelled from lack of use. Now he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen any of them take to the skies. Was he the only demon that had retained his ability to fly?

He found himself glancing at Rumlow’s hands, at the blood-red claws his nails had grown into, the way his bones had elongated and his joints swollen, then he looked back at his own hands, still pink and soft even after however long he’d been using them to wield a knife.

How long had it been since the War, anyway? How long between the War and his submersion in the river? How much of eternity had ticked away while he followed Pierce’s orders, and then went to the river to wash away the memories of it?

He had no idea. He looked at the knife in his hands, blood dripping down the blade, and wondered what the hell he was doing. Why did they need to hurt these souls anyway? Just because they’d made mistakes in life? Or because God had chosen the humans over his angels? Taking it out on the humans like this seemed rather petty, and a bit overkill after however many aeons it had been.

He looked around at the other demons, at the way they went about their work with obvious enjoyment, and wondered why it had taken him this long to realise just how much he didn’t belong there.

“Hey, Rumlow,” he asked, “do you know how we go about getting a different job?”

Rumlow looked at him like he was crazy. “A different job? Are you nuts? Why the hell would we want a different job? We’ve got the best damn deal in Hell, fuck, in the Universe. We get to hurt these fuckers as much as we like, and not only is no one trying to stop us, we’re being _encouraged_ to do it.”

Bucky looked at the woman he was working on, at the blood bubbling out of the cuts he’d made. “I don’t enjoy it,” he said softly, too quietly for anyone other than her to hear and she was too busy watching the knife in his hand, waiting for the next slice.

“I don’t enjoy it,” he said louder, looking over at Rumlow. “Not like you do. Surely there’s something else I could be doing. Watching the sinners on Earth or something?”

Rumlow snorted, shaking his head. “No way, that shit’s way too boring. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I think I would,” said Bucky, and he set the knife down. “There must be a way to swap out with someone.”

Rumlow glared at him. “No fucking way,” he said, jabbing the hacksaw he was holding at Bucky. “This is what you do, who you are. Just pick up the knife and get on with it, and stop being such a damn whiner.”

Bucky looked back down at the woman on the table, who was making quiet, gasping noises of pain and watching him with wide, terrified eyes.

Enough. He was done with all this. “How about we both have a day off?” he said to her.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” asked Rumlow.

And that was the other thing. No other demon had a guy like Rumlow sticking by their side, watching over their shoulder, keeping them in line. Why had Pierce decided Bucky needed that if something in what Clint had said wasn’t at least a bit right? He wasn’t like the rest of the demons.

“I’m making a choice,” he said.

Rumlow rolled his eyes. “You already made this choice,” he said. “Pick up the damn knife and make the bitch scream.”

The woman whimpered, and Bucky ran his eye over her, at the marks and scars of having spent too long in this place. He couldn’t even remember what sin she might have been condemned here for, and it didn’t look like she knew anything other than pain. Just like him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to her.

“Bucky!” started Rumlow, stepping away from his own tortured soul. Bucky ignored him in favour of scooping the woman up in his arms and flapping his wings, beating down as hard as he could to lift both of them.

Not that the effort was needed. The woman’s soul was as light as air, hanging limply in his arms as if all the fight had seeped out of her long ago.

“Bucky, get back here!” shouted Rumlow, but Bucky wasn’t listening, and Rumlow couldn’t follow as Bucky soared up, out of Hell and back towards the river, because where the hell else was he going to go?

The further they got from Hell, the more the woman revived, lifting her head to look around them with wonder, blinking at the sights they passed over. “I’d forgotten how beautiful it was,” she murmured, and Bucky grimaced to himself, because how long had he been part of her torment? Was today the first time he’d taken a knife to her flesh or the thousandth? He’d wiped away so many of his memories, he’d probably never know.

He landed them both on the grass by the river, then immediately looked around for Clint, but he wasn’t there. Disappointment surged through him.

“Where are we?” asked the woman, and Bucky turned his attention back on her.

“Those waters will wash away your memories,” he said. “It can take all of Hell, if you let it.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, then immediately turned towards the river, stumbling over her feet in her eagerness to reach it.

“Don’t go all the way in,” Bucky warned her. “You’ll lose everything. Lose who you are.” Just like he had.

She nodded, falling to her knees on the grass and reaching a hand out into the water, carefully trailing her fingers through for a moment before sticking her whole hand in up to the wrist.

“You’re not going to join her?” asked a voice, and Bucky turned to see Clint behind him, closer than he had been yet. Just the sight of his face made Bucky want to smile and he had no idea why, because of that damned river.

“No, I reckon I’ve lost enough,” he said, and Clint smiled for a moment, then turned to look at the woman. 

“Aren’t you going to be in trouble for bringing her here?” he asked. “Not exactly demon behaviour.”

Bucky shrugged. “You were right, before. I don’t think I’m much of a demon.”

Clint’s smile lit up his face so brightly that Bucky felt himself squint in the face of his grace, taking an instinctive step backwards and then forcing himself to hold still.

“I knew you’d get there,” said Clint. “You’re so much more than they want to make you, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know about that,” he said, looking at the woman, who had pulled her hand from the water and was now lying back on the grass, smiling up at the sky. “I’ve hurt her pretty badly.”

“And then you brought her here,” said Clint. “And what now?”

Bucky blinked at him, because he hadn’t really thought beyond this. “Ah. I don’t know. I’m not taking her back to Hell, so...Purgatory, I guess?”

Clint shook his head. “Nah, I think we can do a bit better than that.” He walked over to the woman, who stared at him with a dazzled look of awe that Bucky found himself understanding rather too well. Clint was pretty incredible to look at, tall and muscled and absolutely beautiful when he smiled.

“Do you still remember your human life?” he asked the woman, and she nodded hesitantly.

“I didn’t want to lose that,” she said.

He nodded. “And do your remember your sins?”

She shuddered and nodded, looking down at the grass. “I knew I shouldn’t have done it,” she said, quietly. “I just wanted _so much_.”

“Do you regret it?” asked Clint, softly. “Do you repent?”

“Yes,” she said, and a sob caught in her throat. “Oh yes, so much. I’d do anything to not have done it.”

Clint smiled and raised a hand, glowing golden in a way that made Bucky hide his eyes because it _hurt_, too much of God’s love shining through him.

“You’re absolved,” said Clint, and when the glow faded enough for Bucky to be able to look again, the woman was clean and whole, with none of the blood or injuries from her time in Hell. “You’re welcome in Heaven.”

“Oh,” she gasped, and slowly started to fade away, going where Bucky wasn’t ever going to be allowed again. “Thank you,” she said as she left, eyes going to Bucky. “Thank you both.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, given he’d been the one torturing her. She disappeared and Clint turned to smile at Bucky.

“Oh shit,” he said, when he took in Bucky’s hunched posture and squinted eyes. The last glow of his grace disappeared. “Sorry! I didn’t think, did I hurt you?”

Bucky looked down at himself. “No,” he said, and was surprised to find it was true. The angelic glow had felt like the fierce roar of a forest fire but it hadn’t burnt him, just washed over his skin and left a sharp tingle behind. “I’m okay.”

Clint grinned at him. “A normal demon wouldn’t be,” he pointed out.

Bucky shook his head with frustration. “If I’m not a normal demon, what the fuck am I?” he asked. “Because I’ve been in Hell, doing a demon’s work. I Fell, just like they did, had my grace torn away, all that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Clint, taking two careful steps towards Bucky, and then stopping just before Bucky thought he’d have to move back. “That was Rumlow’s fault.” His mouth twisted unhappily. “And mine,” he added.

Bucky shook his head. “Tell me,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Clint took a deep breath. “We were all in the same garrison,” he said. “We were the big hitters: me, you, Rumlow, Steve, Natasha, Tony, a couple of others. We were spread too thin though, trying to cover too wide an area while the rebels under Pierce attacked, and we split into groups. I should have stayed with you, I should have known better, but Natasha’s section was where the main force was coming towards us, and she needed back up. So I left you and Rumlow to cover the flank, along with a host of lesser angels, and-”

He took a deep breath, clearly distraught. “Rumlow and all the angels under him had been rebels all along. I don’t- I have no idea what they told you, but when they attacked from the side, trapping us between them and Pierce’s group, you were fighting along with them. I couldn’t-” He choked back a sob. 

“How do you know I wasn’t a rebel all along, like Rumlow?” asked Bucky, and Clint skewered him with a fierce look.

“Because I _knew_ you. Right down to your essence, James- Bucky. You weren’t just an angel, you were one of the best angels. And you were everything to me, I knew you inside and out, there’s no way you believed a word of what Lucifer was spouting.” He took another deep breath.

“I tried to get to you in the mess of the battlefield, to pull you free so I could talk to you and explain that whatever Rumlow had said was wrong, that you were on the wrong side, but that was when Michael and the other Archangels arrived, and swept all the rebels to the edge of Heaven, where-” He took a shuddering breath, wiping a hand over his face. “Where you all Fell. I saw you go, and you looked terrified, you were screaming for me and I- I couldn’t get to you.” He drew in a wet breath. “I just couldn’t move fast enough to get you.”

Bucky took a moment to consider that. He couldn’t remember anything of it, but he didn’t for one moment suspect Clint of lying to him. Even if an angel could lie, he didn’t think Clint would, not to him. “Doesn’t sound like your fault,” he said. “Sounds like Rumlow’s fault. And mine for trusting him too damn much.”

There was a horribly familiar snigger from behind them, and Bucky realised how completely focused he and Clint had become on each other, and how close together they had drifted. He spun around to face the threat, spreading his wings.

“You were so easy to convince as well,” said Rumlow, sauntering over with two lesser demons at his back. “And now you belong with us. Come on, time to go home and face the music. Pierce is seriously pissed at you.”

“Hell isn’t home,” said Bucky, at the same time as Clint stepped forward, in front of him.

“You’ll have to go through me before you lay a finger on him,” he said, shimmering as his angelic armour settled around him, a shining breastplate, a thick leather kilt and a quiver bristling with arrows over his shoulder. Bucky looked at the bow in his hand and blinked, because there was more power there than even a Principality would have had.

_We were the big hitters,_ he’d said, but Bucky hadn’t realised just how high up in the hierarchy that would put him.

Rumslow looked less confident at the sight, and the two demons with him were noticeably nervous, glancing at each other as if trying to work out a way to get the other to take the lead if Rumlow ordered them to attack.

“And the rest of the garrison aren’t that far away,” said Clint. “You really want to risk having to go up against Steve?”

Rumlow growled at him, deep and animal in his throat. “I always fucking hated you the most. Fucking about with a bow and staring off at the stars whle the rest of us did the real work.”

Clint laughed. “I don’t remember you doing a stick of work.” He edged forward, letting his celestial light shine brighter, and Bucky squinted, then shut his eyes when it got too much. 

“If you’re going to stand against me, Rumlow, then do it,” he heard Clint say, and there was a noise of rage and a flurry of sounds, footsteps and thumps and the twang of a bowstring, and Bucky forced himself to open his eyes against the brightness of Clint’s grace, blinking away the tears to see Rumlow on his back, an arrow in his throat, and the other demons running for it while Clint stood tall and powerful, every inch the vengeful angel of the Lord.

“Oh,” he said, feeling dazed. It was just hitting him what all this meant, just how completely he had alienated himself from the only life he’d ever known.

The relief that came with that thought lifted a huge weight off his shoulders.

“Sorry! Sorry,” said Clint, damping down his grace again and vanishing his armour and bow. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” said Bucky numbly, looking at the sprawled out shape of Rumlow’s body. “He’s dead.”

Clint glanced over his shoulder at him and shrugged a shoulder. “As dead as he can be,” he said, then looked back at Bucky, apparently dismissing Rumlow from his mind. “And you’re free of Hell.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky, and blinked. “I don’t- Where do I go now? Heaven won’t want me.” He looked around the river bank. “If I stay here, Pierce will send more demons after me.” Not to mention that he didn’t want to stay this close to the sweet temptation of the river. He was done forgetting things.

“You can go to Earth,” said Clint, then carefully, hesitantly, reached out a hand towards Bucky. “You’re not an angel any more, but you’re not a demon either. Halfway between the two, that’s the domain of humanity.”

Bucky looked at Clint’s hand, at the strong shape of it, then slowly reached out to take it, shivering as he felt Clint’s skin touch his. He could feel the holiness in his touch but it didn’t hurt. It felt like it was warming him, soothing over the ragged holes and half-healed scars where his soul used to be, and he wanted to feel more of it, feel it all over his body.

“I guess I could find a place on Earth,” he said. “You could watch me there more easily than when I was in Hell, anyway.” He looked away from their joined hands, up into Clint’s smiling blue eyes. “Maybe you could even visit occasionally?”

Clint laughed. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “I’m coming with you. Just because I see better from a distance doesn’t mean that I don’t want to see the place up close, especially if I get to see it from beside you.” He squeezed his fingers tighter around Bucky’s, then stepped in closer, his wings spreading wide to circle around them, as if he was trying to protect this heart-stopping moment from anyone who might dare interfere. “I always liked being at your side best,” he added, softly.

Just imagining it, getting to stay with Clint and build an existence with him, made Bucky smile. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and let himself reach out with his other hand to rest on Clint’s waist. “If you won’t get into trouble.”

Clint shrugged. “I’m pretty much always in trouble anyway,” he said. “Besides, my boss is Steve, and there’s no way he’s going to care once he finds out that I got you out of Hell.”

“I still don’t know who Steve is,” said Bucky, “and I got myself out of Hell, but I’ll let you take the credit if it means you’re staying with me.”

“You’re the best,” said Clint, beaming, and leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And I’m gonna stay right with you, just as long as you let me.”

The kiss felt more like a benediction that Bucky had expected, and he couldn’t wait to do it again, often. “Well, I’ve got an eternity to kill,” he said, trying out a smirk and finding that it fitted comfortably on his lips.

“Perfect,” said Clint, and Bucky leaned in to kiss him again, letting his own wings circle around the two of them, just inside Clint’s, so that they were doubly walled off from anyone who cared to pay attention to them. This was just for him and Clint, and screw both Above and Below.


End file.
